My Dirty Little Secret
by Roswell Dream Girl
Summary: I want to slap her across her happy little face. Anything for her to see me—to call me on my bullshit. But she doesn’t. Instead she smiles a sad smile and walks away. She knows but she doesn’t understand. Up to S5 but includes Julian. LP, BL, BJ - oneshot


**My Dirty Little Secret**

**Brooke's POV**

Today is the day.

My best friend is getting married.

I'm the maid of honor but I feel like a fraud.

I'm in love with the groom.

Try as I might I can't seem to turn my heart off.

"Brooke, hun Peyton's ready."

I look up and my eyes meet my other best friend. Haley James Scott, the woman who had it all. A home, a loving husband…Jamie.

I wonder if she knows how much I envy her.

"I'll be right there," I say.

She stays for a moment longer, "You okay?" she ask. "You sound different."

My voice normally raspy and full of life now sounds dull and dead as I tell her I'm fine, "just a little tired from the bachelorette party."

She chuckles to herself, probably remembering how drunk I got and then looks at me once more.

For a moment I see something in her eyes that makes me think I've been found out, that I don't have to go through this alone but as quickly as it appears, it's gone.

Come on Hales, you know me! How can you not know this is killing me, slowly eating me up?

I want to scream at her. I want to slap her across her _happy little face, _anything for her to see me—to call me on my bullshit.

But she doesn't.

Instead she smiles a sad smile and walks away.

She knows but she doesn't understand.

The pain of her rejection is almost too much to stomach but then _he_ walks through the door and everything fades to white.

It takes me a minute to adjust but it helps that he's all I see.

My eyes focus and he looks like I always pictured he would on his wedding day.

_Breathtaking. _

I want to reach out—to touch him one last time but I don't. I force my hands to stay at my side.

It's better this way I tell myself.

He doesn't know it yet but my bags are packed.

My flight leaves in the morning. I'm going back to New York, back to my own personal hell hole.

"You look beautiful Brooke."

I smile but it never reaches my eyes. It hardly ever does anymore.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. "Hales said Peyt—everyone was ready."

I couldn't bear to say her name. This moment was ours.

"Everyone is," he smiles. "But I haven't gotten a chance to thank you for all you have done. Everything looks amazing."

"It's who I am," I tell him.

"Oh I think you're more than that," he says, inching his way closer. "And one day you're going to make a beautiful bride. Any man would be lucky to have you by his side."

But I don't want just any man.

I only ever wanted you.

"No," I tell him. "That ship has sailed. I don't think I'll ever get married."

"You might feel differently when the right one comes along," he tells me.

I clench my teeth to keep from confessing that he already has…that he's standing directly in front of me.

"Maybe," I say instead.

Then he looks at me the way only he can.

I feel naked…see-through, vulnerable.

I turn from him, not wanting him to guess the truth.

It's my secret to bear.

My dirty little secret.

He lays his hand on my right shoulder and instantly I jerk away.

It shouldn't be like this. I never wanted this.

"Please don't touch me." I whisper, loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn't say anything but I know his feelings are hurt—he doesn't understand why I don't want him to touch me.

"Brooke," he says, puzzled by my manner. "Is something wrong?"

He once told me he could tell what I was thinking by just looking at me.

I wonder if that's the case now.

The seconds tick on and he waits for my answer.

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm just nervous about my maid-of-honor speech."

Clearly the days of him reading me with just one look are gone.

"Are sure everything's okay?" he ask again, still not sure I'm telling the truth.

I state the obvious. "It's your wedding day Lucas."

"You think it's the tux that gives me away" he jokes.

It makes me smile in a non-funny kind of way.

Typical Lucas, he never was good at telling jokes.

"Be happy," I tell him. "That's all I wish for."

--------------------------------

Its time and I'm the first to walk down the aisle.

Lucas briefly looks my way and for a second I imagine I'm the bride and he the groom, that the smile on his face was reserved for me and not the girl behind the wood doors.

The moment ends too soon when I reach the front and take my spot next to the priest.

Haley isn't far behind me and soon all that's left is the wedding march.

The music begins and I wonder if I'll _really_ be able to do this. I've always thought myself strong but watching Lucas marry Peyton was agonizing.

But then I see her.

She looks the happiest I've ever seen her and as _her_ best friend I'm happy for her. But a part of me wishes her happiness didn't mean my unhappiness.

She couldn't possibly know it but the dress she's wearing was my own personal design.

The same wedding dress I designed, senior year for mine and Lucas' wedding. I hid it away, hoping someday we would find our way but the minute I heard they were engaged, it became hers.

Peyton loved it almost instantly.

The only person to have ever seen it was Haley.

I glance her way, looking for some kind of recognition. And with the pity that stares back at me I know she does.

And suddenly I'm angry.

Angry that once again I let myself get sucked back into the Leyton drama. Angry that not even Haley seems to understand how dead I am, inside.

Well you can keep your damn pity Mrs. Scott, I don't want it.

Peyton takes her place next to Lucas and though I hate it I do my best to tone the service out.

I do however catch bits and pieces of their written vows and just when I think I can't take anymore the priest declares them husband and wife.

It's official.

Peyton Sawyer and is now Peyton Scott.

-----------------------------

I'm a little drunk as I lead Julian through my front door.

And as we stumble towards my bedroom, it's obvious to the both of us where this is going.

And though I don't love him, I will fuck him.

It is after all who I am.

He asks me if I'm sure. I want to tell him I haven't been sure of anything in a long time but instead I start unbuttoning my shirt.

It seems to satisfy any doubt he has.

There is no kissing.

No foreplay.

Nothing but raw, animal need.

It's only seconds before he's inside me.

And as he thrust in and out of me I'm reminded of a time in my life when sex was my cover—my wall. But Lucas cured me of that.

It seems kind of fitting that he would be the cause of tonight.

I can feel my release coming and just as fast as we started it was over.

He rolls off of me and reaches for his pants, making it clear he wants to leave but I can't be alone, not tonight.

"Please don't leave," I whisper.

He hesitates; battling with himself I'm sure.

"Please…"

He wavers a moment longer, then nods and lies back down.

Julian isn't such a bad guy after all, I decide.

"Why do you torture yourself," he asks me some time later.

"I don't know what you mean," I tell him.

"Yes you do," he says. "You love Lucas."

"No I don't."

"He doesn't deserve you."

"Look Julian you're way off. I don't love Lucas. I'm happy for him and Peyton." Lie, lie, lie.

"I saw the way you looked at him tonight."

Suddenly I want him out of my house—my bed.

"You can leave now," I tell him.

He doesn't move.

"I'm serious."

"I understand you way more than you think. You and I are a lot alike."

"Look what you and Peyton had meant nothing to her; she was in love with Lucas the entire time."

The words were meant to hurt and by the look on his face, they did.

"I'm sorry," I say instantly. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? It's the truth. I never stood a chance."

He waits a few minutes and then says, "Neither did you."

It stings but the truth can't be denied.

I turn on my side and whisper, "I know."

----------------------------------------

**Lucas' POV **

Peyton wanted me to call.

Haley thought it was a bad idea—that she would check on her later today.

But I knew I had to see her before I left for the next two weeks. It just didn't feel right leaving, knowing something was wrong with Brooke.

I knock on her door but no one answers.

I found the key I made her hide under the doormat and for a moment I question whether Haley was right, what if this _was_ a bad idea?

I tell myself this is Brooke, my friend. What could be so wrong about checking up on a friend?

I unlock the door and the first thing I notice are her suitcases. Was she going somewhere? I didn't remember her telling me anything about it. And I was sure Peyton hadn't said anything either.

I walk further in the room and I immediately know something isn't right. The walls were bear, her pictures were gone, even her kitchen was empty.

I knock lightly on her bedroom door and let myself in, "Brooke."

I notice two things almost immediately.

She isn't alone; Julian is in her bed and two, neither of them have any clothes on.

And I don't like it.

"Lucas…" she whispers, her eyes giving her away. She wants to explain—to apologize. But I know she won't.

"I don't understand—I thought you didn't like him." I know I have no right but the jealousy raiding off me is intense.

She looks down and then back at me, "I don't...at least not like that."

Only to Brooke Davis would those words make any sense.

"What are you doing here Lucas?" she asks me.

I fumble for a minute but I tell her I came to check on her—that I was worried about her.

She just looks at me.

"Go back to your wife," she finally tells me. "You don't belong here."

"You're important to me Brooke," I tell her. "We're friends."

Her face falls and I know I see tears in her eyes. I'm not sure what I've done but I hate seeing her cry

"Fr-friends who haven't had a real conversation in months! You have no clue what I'm going through—what I've been through," she yells at me.

I expect Julian to wake up but instead he rolls over and I know it's to give us some privacy.

"You know I'm here for you," I tell her.

"Lucas please just leave me alone—haven't I endured enough pain for one day?"

Enough pain? What in the world was she talking about?

"You're not making any sense Brooke. I know things haven't been easy with the store and Angie but you have a family who love you…and you have _Julian._"

"Just leave Lucas," she tells me again.

"No, not until you tell me what's bothering you."

She doesn't say a word and I can tell she's fighting an inner battle with herself.

"Do you ever think about us?" she finally asks me.

I take a seat on the edge of the bed and pretend I don't hear her. But the truth is I think about it…more than a newly married man should.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we didn't break up in high school? Or if I hadn't turned you down in New York?"

They were simple questions but the answers on the other hand were anything but simple.

"Brooke…"

"Do you?" she asks again

It was in the past, what was the point of bring it up now?

"Answer me Lucas, please."

I can tell my answer, whatever it was, was important to her.

"Sometimes—a lot actually," I admit.

That seemed to make her cry harder.

I lay my hand on her leg, "Please don't cry, I hate it when you cry."

"I wish things could be different," she tells me. "Really different."

I thought Brooke had closed the book on us long ago, I thought she got over me, that I had no choice but to get over her too.

Don't get me wrong, I love Peyton, she's my wife but at one time I loved Brooke too.

"Why did you breakup with me?" I surprise myself by asking.

I never understood it, not then and definitely not now.

"Peyton," she whispers. "She told me she loved you and I knew I would lose you eventually so I left you before you had a chance to leave me."

Peyton, my wife the woman I promised to love and cherish for the rest of my life was the cause of mine and Brooke's breakup.

And she never said anything. Not one word.

"I loved you Brooke. I wouldn't have done that to you again."

"But you did Lucas. Maybe you and Peyton weren't dating but that didn't stop you from running to her whenever she needed you or ignoring me when my problems didn't seem as big as hers." She takes a breath. "After we broke up you didn't have a problem being her boyfriend but you never even _bothered_ to be mine."

I want to tell her that it isn't true, that I never put Peyton above her—but the fact was, I did, more times than I liked to remember.

"I'm sorry Brooke…so very sorry."

She doesn't believe me and I can't say that I really blame her.

"Is there something wrong with me?" she asks. "Why am I never enough? You, Chase, Owen…"

"Oh no, God Brooke it isn't you! I was young and stupid; I didn't know what I wanted. And Chase and Owen are idiots, just like me." I take her hand in mine, "But someday Brooke…someday a great guy is gonna come along and you're gonna fall in love with him and him with you and you're gonna wonder why you ever wasted one minute on fools like us."

"But now you know." she untangles her hand from mine. "And it isn't me."

It isn't a question, it's a statement.

She wants to yell at me to get out, to leave her alone but my eyes are begging her to understand—to not hold it against me.

"I never meant to hurt you."

She nods. That she does believe.

Then she looks at me…really looks at me and I realize this crazy, outspoken, beautiful woman means more to me than I've been willing to admit. That somewhere along the way it became easier to ignore how I feel than own up to it.

And now it's too late to tell her I love her.

Not the high school love that you get over once school lets out, not even the kind of love I share with Peyton but instead the kind that makes you want what's best for the one you love, that's never selfish…the kind that knows Brooke would never hurt Peyton, that would never put her in a position where she had to choose between hurting her best friend or being with me.

I couldn't do it to her and I couldn't do it to Peyton.

"You gonna be okay?" I ask her.

She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes, "I always am."

I stand up and turn towards the door and somehow I know this will be the last time I see Brooke Davis. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her how I feel, to at least give her that but I can't do it.

It's my secret to bear.

My dirty little secret.

**The End.**


End file.
